A little bit of poetry here..

There is no place on earth like Kansas in the summer.
Take away the mountains, the lakes, the forests,
Replace them with staggering hills,
With fields as far as the eye can see,
And you begin to know just how far the eye can see.

For true beauty,
The kind that you can only really hope to see,
Just drive down I-35 from Emporia to Wichita,
On a sunny, August evening,
The few trees and bushes clinging to the small, dry riverbeds,
But the open fields stretching out like the holy infinite mind on both sides.

This is landscape, in its truest sense.
You'll never see this in the mountains,
Or the forests,
You'll never find this on beaches or lakeshores,
You can't find it in cities.
When a storm comes sweeping across the plains, you see it,
You see it form, miles distant, unbelievably huge.
You see the rains falling underneath distant clouds,

There is horizon here, where it exists few other places.

This is where you go to contemplate God,
To contemplate the mysteries of life.
To see a glimpse of what infinity really looks like.

In the evening, in August, you are particularly blessed.
The day was hot, and the setting sun is finally relenting,
Nothing feels better than prairie air post-baking.

I drove through Kansas on a sunny August evening,
And I realized what I have been missing.

I drove through the Flint Hills, past semi's and pickups,
Past cattle and prairie chickens,
Past it all.
And remembered.